These Children That You Spit On
by That Girl55
Summary: It's been thirty years since the original Breakfast Club, and now it's time for a new generation of brains and of criminals, of basket cases and of princesses, to take their place. -Title taken from the David Bowie Quote-
1. Author's Note

**So basically what i was planning to do with this story was completely rewriting The Breakfast Club to fit modern times and standards. Each character would get a new look, new face and such, but their personality would still be the same. For example, For 'The Basket Case,' instead of making her a loner, I thought it'd be more fitting to make her a teen mom and such, so that it would be harder for her to connect with her age group because they don't have the same interests and everything. **

**I really hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I'm going to enjoy writing it! Thanks for reading, xx. **


	2. Chapter 1

**The Princess **

(Face claim: Amber Heard circa 2005)

I smacked my hand down on the ringing alarm clock hard that Friday morning, knowing from the start that it would be a long day. I pulled myself out of bed with a groan, rubbing my eyes as I made my way to my vanity.

Shit, I had a pimple.

It wasn't like I really minded pimples to be honest-I mean, everyone got them, but I knew my mother would be on me about it for weeks.

"Illinois Most Outstanding Teens do not get pimples," She'd say, clucking her tongue at me.

Quickly, I wiped foundation over it and vowed to somehow get rid of it later that night, before Andrew would pick me up tonight for our weekly dinner date. Really though, we'd get dinner at some drive through place, if Andrew allowed it, and then head over to Justin's for a party. I loved greasy food, the cheap stuff had always called to me, really, but my mom would die if she found out, and Andrew liked to eat healthy too, when he could. Don't get me wrong, he was still a teenage boy, but Andrew was one of the most health concerned people I've ever met.

"Claire, honey!" My dad called up to me. "Do you need a ride to school?"

"Not today, Daddy." I yelled back. "Just leave me the car keys, and I'll drive myself."

Suddenly, he appeared in my doorway, tossing the keys so that they landed perfectly on my dresser top. Dad played basketball all through college, so he was good at this kind of stuff. Plus, it gave him something to talk about with Andrew, their obsession with sports and all.

"Don't be late again, okay? You know I can't keep covering for you; they said one more time and it's a Saturday school."

"I know, Daddy."

"And cover up that pimple before your mom sees it, hon. She'll absolutely shit bricks."

"Have a good day at work, love you Dad!" I laughed, every day I was reminded of why I was such a Daddy's girl, and still everyday I was also left to question how my parents were even still together.

The older I got, the easier that was to answer: the money. Mom and Dad might go neck and neck constantly, but to put it frankly Mom wasn't about to give up her beauty-pagent daughter and three manicures a week for a little independence.

I pulled on some simple blue jeans and a white shirt (designer, of course, and courtesy of my mother) before running downstairs and out the door, groaning when I saw the time.

I had to be at school in ten minutes, stopping at McDonald's would be pushing it, right? Whatever, that Egg McMuffin would definitely be worth a Saturday School.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/n-Bender's face claim is bound to change, so you know! I had a bit of inspiration for his chapter today and wanted to get it out there before I forgot! xx.**

* * *

**The Criminal**

(Face claim: Avan Jogia)

I was the first kid to school-correction, I was _always _the first kid to school. That's why Carl got to know me so well. He was a sweet old guy, a lonely one too; sometimes he'd give me a light if he saw me hanging around before Vernon got there, because he knew it was one of those days where I was running out of the house so quickly I didn't remember to bring one of my own.

Carl came from a bad background too, and I think that's why he watched out for me. He didn't try to get me to stop, because he knew I'd do it anyways, but he at least watched out for me. Sometimes, especially when I was younger, I liked to stand out here and smoke with him and, just for a little while, pretend he was my dad instead of the fucker I've got at home.

Carl's already in school today, and it was a good morning anyways, so I don't really need Carl or his lighter to keep me company. The school's already open, so Vernon must be here already-fat and happy in his office, that prick.

I was still early enough that I was the only one here, though, so I leaned against the wall, smoking one of my infamous homemade cigarettes. They weren't half bad, if you knew where to get the stuff and who to get it from. Even if they were pretty shitty sometimes, it's not like I can afford Camels or any of those-Momma would notice when the money went missing from the jar, and Red would beat me for it.

Red is my stepdad, the man who is notorious for treating my whole family like shit. He's got money though, a ton of it that he doesn't let us touch, that he keeps in his own little account and dangles over our heads like we're dogs doing a trick.

I tell mom we don't need him, she points out that he _sometimes _helps pay for the bills. At least he pays for his own beer, you know?

Suddenly, there was a loud beeping over my head, and I looked up to find that the smoke from my cigarette had set off one of the smoke detectors.

Quickly, I slammed my foot down on top of the cigarette and headed for the doors, running as the familiar cry of "Bender!" Echoed throughout the empty halls, which were suddenly filled with people.

"Sorry, Miss!" I said, pushing past a petite redhead who was just now making it into school.

It wasn't until I got outside and the rest of the student body followed me out that I realized, hey, maybe I wasn't early. Yeah, I was late.


	4. Chapter 3

**The Basket Case**

(Face claim: Darby Stanchfeild)

"Sorry Miss!" a boy yelled, pushing passed me and almost making me drop the orange I had in my hands.

With a groan, I spun on my heels and walked out of the school with the rest of the student body, grateful that, at least this way, there was no way to prove that I had been late. Daddy would have my hide if I was late to school again.

It was his fault, really though, because he promised me the car today so that I could drive Ida and Louis to school, but instead Momma decided not to get out of bed like any other day and Daddy took the car out at five am to light Momma a candle in the town church, and he hasn't been back since.

Momma's been sick with cancer for as long as I can remember. Self-diagnosed, of course, because the only doctor my Daddy believes in is himself, and he's the only preacher for us too. Daddy's no real preacher, or a doctor either-really he's just a car salesman who enjoys playing pretend.

Ida is my twelve year old sister, the little doll who gobbles up everything the family feeds her, from quotes straight out of Daddy's homemade bible to Momma's 'diagnosis.' Not even Louis, who's seven, can bring himself to believe in that anymore.

So instead, I'm the one playing adult. It's always, "Sissy, feed the kids!" or "Sissy, make sure your homework is done!" hell, my real name's not even Sissy, it's Cecilia! When Ida was born, she couldn't pronounce it and instead called me Sissy, and the rest of the family followed suit.

"John, John Bender!" Mr. Vernon said to the police officer. "That's who did it. Saw it with my own eyes, sir!"

There was a collective rolling of eyes as the boy who hit me walked towards Mr. Vernon and the officer.

"What's the verdict, sir?" John said, laughing.

"Don't you play dumb with me, mister!" Vernon jabbed a finger into john's chest. "Saturday school, this weekend."

"...and an eighty dollar fine." The officer said, giving John a sympathetic smile as he removed Vernon's finger from the boy's chest.

Hm, Cecilia Bender, that would sound nice.


End file.
